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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361861">Charlie’s Bad Room</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewerkingcharlie/pseuds/sewerkingcharlie'>sewerkingcharlie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ableist Language, Canon-Typical Behavior, Charlie Kelly I love you and I apologise for neglecting you in fanfic before now, Cloaked and vague references to past sexual assault, Crying, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gay Panic, Hugs, I love these men okay, Injury, M/M, Reference to Dee Day, Set vaguely post s14, Support, The ableist language is one use of the R slur, This is the absolute definition of hurt/comfort okay, Trauma, and it’s fucking high time I wrote a charden fic, big uwu hours, mental health</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:09:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361861</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewerkingcharlie/pseuds/sewerkingcharlie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie is in his bad room. Dennis comes to try and help.</p><p>•••</p><p> </p><p>  <em>“Sometimes I think that I’m just a ghost, like an actual one, and that gun on the cruise ship like, it wasn’t even a flare a-and I really did die or something,” Charlie said quietly through sniffs, tears still falling from his eyes. “I’m sure of it, but then I get high and drunk and it— it’s like I’m a human again, but even then, I’m not correct... you know? I’m weirder than a fucking Martian, I can’t even identify with— with any... stuff, at all... and I keep counting to three in my head sometimes, which is stupid, but— but maybe Mom was right, or something... I...”</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charlie Kelly/Dennis Reynolds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Charlie’s Bad Room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ceiling always did feel a little bit low in Charlie’s bad room. He’d adapted, over the years, reminding himself that he wasn’t going to get squished between the ceiling and the floor, because even if they seem to be, walls don’t move. He also nudged himself to remember that he really shouldn’t complain — he was lucky to be short, instead of tall, because if he was, he’d almost definitely hit his head on the diagonal, wire laden beams, and then, it’d definitely feel like the walls were closing in.</p><p>Nonetheless, even his smaller build felt cramped in the small room amongst the vents sometimes. Those were the days where it didn’t just feel like the walls were closing in, but the Night Man too, and everything he’d avoided for that day or week or month or lifetime started to catch up with him. Those were also the days where smashing glass bottles didn’t suffice; he’d burn things, usually bits of paper he’d tried to write his name on, often times childhood photos with family members and tiny hands, other times his fingertips, out of inescapable and unwanted curiosity as to how long he could last without flinching his hand away.</p><p>Some of the worst days of Charlie’s life had been spent in his bad room. Correction: some of the worst days of Charlie’s <em>adult</em> life had been spent in his bad room. The worst days of Charlie’s life were from his childhood, but at the same time, a lot of those days didn’t feel connected to current life and living and reality... at all. </p><p>Maybe he was traumatised. Maybe he was just weird. Maybe his brain decided to leave for a bit sometimes. Charlie didn’t really care about semantics when he was in the bad room. He just cared about smashing and destroying things that weren’t him, before he accidentally destroyed himself. </p><p>One particular day in the bad room, Charlie was on the brink of losing himself. He’d been in there for days, and he wasn’t sure how many. That day, he couldn’t distinguish the hazy line between destroying things around him and destroying himself. He’d not slept for more than a few hours since being in there, and he was at the crossover from violently angry to heavily sad.</p><p>His hands were bloody and bruised and blistered that day, his eye circles red and deep and tired. He was doing everything in threes, to make sure he didn’t die; if he smashed one beer bottle, there’d have to be another two. If he punched the ceiling beams once, he’d have to do it another two times, and so on and so forth. </p><p>He was resting on the floor, and he didn’t know what time it was, because his phone was long out of battery, so he sat in a mindless state amongst smashed pieces of glass, charred pieces of paper, mouse traps and debris, huddling his knees to his chest, bloody hands gripping his jeans.</p><p>He practically died of shock when he heard three taps against the metal vents directly outside the bad room, the disruption of silence making him jolt so hard, he nearly fell onto his back.</p><p>His glassy eyes opened wide, unable to see anybody for the moment. “...Uh—” he managed to croak, voice hoarse from screaming and dry from not forming any cohesive words.</p><p>His gaze flickered out into the gap for the vents, desperately searching for who it was, when Dennis poked his head round the corner, into Charlie’s line of vision. </p><p>Dennis cracked an awkward smile. “Hey, buddy.”</p><p>Charlie paused, looking at Dennis laying a bit squished, poking his head out. He’d got a little brown paper bag clutched in one hand, the compromising position making him look incredibly uncomfortable. Charlie didn’t want Dennis to see him whilst he was having a bad time. He could feel the tears clinging to his waterline, and he knew that he was bleeding. It was embarrassing. “...Go away, Dennis,” he said quietly, looking down at his feet to avoid looking at Dennis.</p><p>Dennis didn’t shy back. Didn’t even make an attempt to acknowledge Charlie’s words, not for a moment. He held up the brown paper bag, and raised a gentle eyebrow, questioning. “You’ve been up here for days, man. Brought you a care package to keep you going.”</p><p>Charlie frowned. “Why...?”</p><p>“Because it’d be grim to have a dead body in the vents,” Dennis said as a blatant excuse, shuffling a little forwards on his elbows, around the corner a little further. Eventually, he elaborated with something more reminiscent of the truth. “...And I don’t like to see my friend having a bad time.”</p><p>Charlie didn’t say anything for a short moment. Just blinked, then spoke. “Wha—” he cleared his throat, a croak breaking his voice up. “What have you got in there?”</p><p>“Well, let me come give it to you, and you can see?”</p><p>“Are you gonna trick me w— with a bag of reptile creatures or somethin’?” Charlie shuffled a little, his brain shooting images of lizards leaping out of the bag, crawling all over him. It made him anxious, so he bit his cuticles.</p><p>“Why would I do that?” Dennis asked in a slightly offended voice. “No. I’m not gonna trick you, man. Trust me, yeah?”</p><p>Charlie chewed his lip, slowly resting his face into his knees before nodding, with a tiny shrug. “Uh-huh.”</p><p>Dennis offered a little smile, crawling his body forwards through the vent, making sure not to rest his weight on the brown paper bag.</p><p>Charlie looked up through his hair and tear-logged eyes, face still in his knees. “Careful of, uh, glass and stuff.”</p><p>Dennis nodded in absentminded understanding, carefully setting his hands on the floor and pushing himself up, thanking himself for wearing shoes up here. “If I come sit next to you, are you gonna freak out and throw stuff at me?” He asked in a soft and joking voice, kicking broken glass out of the way as he walked over.</p><p>“No,” Charlie said quietly, scratching his head with sorrowfully bitten fingernails. His teary eyes were starting to remedy themselves, trying to let himself trust Dennis. <em>Dennis knows me. He’s an asshole, but he gets things, stuff in my head. He’s safe. His hands aren’t too small at all.</em> </p><p>“Good start,” Dennis chuckled, clearing room on a part of the floor next to Charlie. He made certain sure there were no bits of glass or whatever else, pushing them away. </p><p>Charlie raised his gaze up to Dennis, whose head was hung a little, in case he hit the beams of the sloping ceiling. He frowned, hugging himself a little tighter. The walls were still. Dennis just looked tall and the walls weren’t moving and that was simply that. A little more normal; Charlie didn’t know why. He watched as Dennis perched next to him, sitting cross legged on the concrete and smiling in a bizarrely gentle but casual way.</p><p>“So,” Dennis held up the paper bag, opening it up. “Care package: Charlie edition.” </p><p>Charlie nodded, not bothering to smile. He used the saved effort from not smiling to lift his head up in a less subversive, weak-willed way, watching Dennis with observing eyes. “Thanks...” he said quietly.</p><p>“First up, candy vitamins,” Dennis held up a little bottle of colourful gummy vitamins. He’d taped over the childish, patronising design on the bottle. “You get the rest of the stuff on the condition that you eat like, a good few of these. You’ve been up here for like, four days, I don’t want you getting sick or some shit.”</p><p>Charlie looked at the vitamins warily, then back at Dennis. His brow settled into a slightly offended expression. “These are, like...” he started, lifting his hand from his knee and taking the bottle, looking through the clear plastic at the variety of colours. “...Uh... Kiddy ones or something.”</p><p>Dennis shrugged impartially. “So what? They taste nicer than pills.” </p><p>Charlie nodded slowly in hesitant agreement, carefully unscrewing the cap. With shaky hands, he emptied a few gummies into his palm, looking at them with uncertainty for a moment, before putting them in his mouth in one motion.</p><p>Dennis watched quietly, feeling privately and quietly relieved. Charlie looked bad; his skin was unsaturated, his eyes puffy and red, hair sticking out at all angles and caked with grime and God knows what, clothes filthy. There was never much convincing Charlie to look after himself if he was having a time like this, and the children’s vitamins in various bright colours were a way to subtly persuade him into self care — colours would often appeal to Charlie in times like this. A bit of synthetic, man-made saturation amongst the bleakness of his bad room was normally much embraced.</p><p>Charlie chewed the gummies. Swallowed them. Looked at the bottle and thought about eating them all in one hit, before his curiosity about the contents of the bag got the better of him. </p><p>“Alright,” Dennis nodded, reaching into the bag. “This is where it gets more kinda fun than vitamins,” he said, grabbing a plastic Tupperware tub full of bite-sized cubes of cheese which he put carefully on the floor. Then, he grabbed out a can of beer (nothing glass and breakable), and then, a metal container of glue. “Ta-dah.” He placed them all down just in front of Charlie.</p><p>Charlie looked down at the things Dennis brought for him. Noticed that the cheese was all different types, the cubes a variety of colours. The beer was cold, he could see the condensation on the can. And the glue was industrial grade, the same sort that Charlie always bought for himself, but this was new, unopened. But he knew that it was going to be the same on the inside, intoxicating and sticky and fuzzy to his brain. </p><p>The same could be said for how he felt about Dennis in that moment. New. Unopened. Unexplored. But when he eventually opens the lid, it’ll be all too familiar. Charlie was feeling for Dennis in a completely different light right now. It made his stomach ache. </p><p>He looked down at the care package for a long moment without outwardly reacting. But soon enough, he felt his eyes start to water. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Motionless, unblinking, feeling himself crumble in the most cathartic way for days.</p><p>Dennis wrung his hands a little awkwardly. “You good there, buddy?...”</p><p>Charlie burst into tears. Buried his face in his knees. Spluttering in an almost childish way. Vulnerable. Exposed. </p><p>Dennis’ eyes widened in panic. Charlie didn’t look childish or exposed to him, he just looked sad, and it made Dennis’ hands almost start to flap. “Shit— shit, Charlie, did I get the wrong stuff?” He asked, somewhat desperate to amend it, to calm him down. “Oh man, I-I’m so sorry dude, I didn’t mean to upset you...” His hands automatically reached out to help or comfort, before stopping himself, leaving fussing uselessly in the air in front of him, instead.</p><p>Charlie shook his head, but hugged himself tighter, sniffling in cries that were obviously being desperately swallowed down. He was trying so hard to stop, because he hated crying in front of people, and somehow crying in front of Dennis was an even more paralysing feat. Maybe because Dennis was so strong and normal and emotionless, but Charlie knew that wasn’t the case, because Dennis wasn’t any of those things. He knew that well enough. Maybe because he didn’t want Dennis to think he was weak, like a tiny little baby boy. Probably that. That made sense.</p><p>“Charlie, dude...” Dennis frowned in worry. “I-It’s... okay...?” He wasn’t sure how to comfort, <em>if</em> to comfort. </p><p>“...’S n-not okay though— i-is it?” Charlie stuttered out through a sob, that wracked his whole body. This was the reason he came to his bad room, in times like this; when he was around people, he’d spill everything out, cry, stutter and ramble and sniffle. In his bad room, there was nobody to make him feel safe enough to cry in the first place. The bad room served it’s purpose — a bad place. Not a good one.</p><p>But being around Dennis? That felt like a good place. A safe place. Mac did as well, but not in the same way. Mac felt like a safe and good place that was familiar, and normal, and expected. But Dennis was a container of industrial strength glue, just recently fished out of a paper bag, unopened and brand new.</p><p>Charlie choked on a small cry, and cowered into himself further.</p><p>“Isn’t it?” Dennis tried after a moment, putting his hand on Charlie’s shoulder, half expecting him to flinch away, but Charlie did no such thing. He just cried harder. So, Dennis took his hand away.</p><p>Charlie fell into Dennis the second his hand left his shoulder. He was desperate for human touch, after days of being completely alone, and the brief touch to his shoulder was like a glimpse of warmth, for it to be so quickly smothered by the cold again. The side of his body collided with Dennis’, and he trembled as he cried.</p><p>Dennis’ body instinctively froze up, his chest hurting in an almost empathetic way. He didn’t know what to do though, how to respond to Charlie crying into him, so he awkwardly tried to move his hands, stiffly, patting his head. He cringed at himself. “Charlie...?” He tried quietly. “What’s going on, bud?” </p><p>Charlie tried to gather himself a little. Enough to speak. “Everything...” he choked out, trying to piece together a sentence. “Is <em>bad</em>.”</p><p>Dennis frowned, looking at Charlie, around the room, at the floor, before warily wrapping an arm around his shaking shoulders. “Y’wanna... talk?” He managed to say, forcing out the incredibly cliché feeling words. He didn’t regret saying them, though. He was quietly glad he did.</p><p>“It’s just so f-fucking <em>bad</em> sometimes,” Charlie spat, full of disdain towards himself and the stupid, stinking yuck puddle of a world. At least somebody was trying to mop it up, even if it was a universally impossible task. That was normally the Charlie work, but Dennis seemed pretty handy with a mop and bucket at that moment.</p><p>Dennis listened, not entirely sure if he should interject or not. Not entirely sure of what to do at all. He acted on instinct, and gave Charlie a very gentle squeeze.</p><p>“It’s r-retarded,” Charlie choked out. That’s the word everyone had always used for him, so he said it, forced it out of his mouth. “But Jack, he keeps— he <em>keeps</em> tryn’a get me to go stay with him at Mom’s... And I— I don’t wanna do that, I can’t f-f-fucking stand him.”</p><p>Dennis frowned. Sadly? Empathetically? Probably both.</p><p>“And Dee, she’s getting on my nerves s-so much—” Charlie grit his teeth and grunted a frustrated, shaking scream of annoyance, of agony. “I’m <em>sick</em> of her. And maybe it makes sense that I’m all stupid and upset by dumb things, b-because I’m a failed abortion, remember? I-I’m not even supposed to be a human or anything, and I— fuck, I don’t even feel like one half the time, it’s all so— so... so <em>bad,</em> Dennis, it’s so fucking bad...”</p><p>Dennis felt his heart grow heavier with every word. Charlie was slowly leaning his head onto Dennis’ shoulder, to anchor himself a little, if anything else.</p><p>“Sometimes I think that I’m just a ghost, like an actual one, and that gun on the cruise ship like, it wasn’t even a flare a-and I really did die or something,” Charlie said quietly through sniffs, tears still falling from his eyes. “I’m sure of it, but then I get high and drunk and it— it’s like I’m a human again, but even then, I’m not correct... you know? I’m weirder than a fucking Martian, I can’t even identify with— with any... stuff, at all... and I keep counting to three in my head sometimes, which is stupid, but— but maybe Mom was right, or something... I...”</p><p>Dennis had never heard Charlie speak like this. Ever. So candid and broken and upset; it was almost uncharacteristic, but the things he was saying made so much painful sense, it was so characteristic of him, Dennis felt like he was seeing Charlie without all the layers of glue and mania and charisma and crassness. </p><p>“S’like, all this bad stuff, dude, like... it’s th-this spider...” Charlie tried to explain, but Dennis already understood.</p><p>There was a spider deep in his soul, that’s been there for years and just won’t let the fuck go. </p><p>So Dennis nodded, and nervously elected to rest his head atop Charlie’s. “It’s alright, Charlie,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to explain it all. I understand, man, it’s okay.”</p><p>Charlie squeezed his eyes shut as silent tears seeped from them, a hand twitching on his knee in hesitation, as his brain decided that it really wanted to hug Dennis back.</p><p>He nodded, in response to Dennis’ words, and plucked up the courage to reach out, arm slinging loosely around the front of Dennis’ torso in a slight hug. </p><p>Dennis’ eyes widened. His brows upturned a little bit. He wondered why he felt so warm, wondered if the gang had put the heating on and there was hot air blowing through the vents. He knew it wasn’t the case, because it was his chest that felt warm, and different, and heavy and light all at once. There were big feelings there, he just couldn’t quite define them.</p><p>Charlie slowly grew more comfortable, as did Dennis. Charlie’s arm squeezed Dennis a little, less loose and hesitant now. Dennis exhaled quietly, and squeezed him back. His face was set in a confused, sad expression, solemn and seemingly deep in thought. Charlie couldn’t see him right now though. His head was resting on Dennis’ shoulder, and couldn’t see his face.</p><p>“...Please don’t tell the gang I cried,” Charlie said quietly after a few minutes. </p><p>“Of— Of course, Char, I won’t,” Dennis reassured immediately, not hesitating for a heartbeat. “I won’t. Don’t worry.”</p><p>“M’ not supposed to get so upset like this anymore,” Charlie mumbled. He paused for a moment, before turning his head, so his face was hidden in the side Dennis’ shoulder. “It’s— it’s for tiny little babies. I’m supposed to be... supposed to be less like this, now...”</p><p>Dennis shook his head slightly. Shook his head for a long moment, as he gathered words in response. “If bad things keep happening, bad feelings are as well,” he said gently. Completely uncharacteristic, but it felt right now.</p><p>Charlie wasn’t expecting a response like that. </p><p>Dennis was right though. Charlie could admit that. Bad things did keep happening. Like Dee, and having to see her most days of his life. Like Uncle Jack staying at Bonnie’s all the time. Like watching Mac float away from him, and watching Dennis float away from everyone. </p><p>“Yeah,” he said quietly, and practically huddled into Dennis. His warmth was comforting. His everything was comforting. “I guess.” </p><p>Dennis nodded, and rested a hand on Charlie’s head, trying to keep him calm and content as his fingers slightly teased at his knotted hair. </p><p>“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Charlie blurted out, suddenly. Dennis frowned in baffled confusion, turning his head to see Charlie’s unruly mop of hair splayed across the blue fabric of his top.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“When you were a kid,” Charlie clarified almost silently. “In... In high school. I never said that yet, I— I didn’t want the rest of the gang to think I was... uh... understanding of the whole... I...”</p><p>Dennis bit the inside of his cheek, hard. Completely taken aback by the words. He stared off into nothingness for a moment. But then, he hugged Charlie even tighter. “...Thanks, buddy,” he whispered, fighting back the urge to deny anything, as is his usual response to that.</p><p>“If— if you ever wanna borrow my bad room, uh...” Charlie started, incredibly quietly. “You... you can. You can share it with me...”</p><p>Dennis’ face threatened to crease up. “Charlie, I can’t take your room away from you—” </p><p>“We’ll share it,” Charlie repeated, and lifted his face, almost immediately meeting Dennis’ gaze; eyes widening, he looked away, like a deer caught in headlights. Maybe he was embarrassed, or bashful. Or maybe, it was something a bit more complex. He carried on speaking, ignoring the flurry in his brain. “A—And if we happen to crossover and be in here at like, the same time, then it might be... a little less bad...?”</p><p>Dennis opened his mouth, eyebrows knotting upwards. “...<em>Yeah</em>... Yeah, maybe it will, bud,” he said in a reserved voice, humbled and grounded and emotional. “...Thank you.”</p><p>Charlie nodded, and exhaled a shaky breath. “I really mean it,” he said, looking down into his lap, arms staying around Dennis but with a little less deliberation; didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.</p><p>Dennis hesitated for a long moment. “I’m... sorry too,” he said honestly, trying not to feel an unnecessary amount of confusing feelings as he was. “About... Jack. And Dee.”</p><p>Charlie opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t get it out. Shocked, to say the least. He wasn’t used to this level of genuineness from Dennis. </p><p>“I didn’t know how to, like, say... Well, for the same reasons as you, I guess,” Dennis continued, and he chuckled a little awkwardly at himself. “But it’s... it’s out there now, right?”</p><p>Charlie, very suddenly, had the most intense urge to comfort Dennis in some way, as he listened to him speak the way he was. His chest felt a bit too big for his body, and he was looking at Dennis, and it felt so nice to talk to him away from the rest of the gang. It was nice in laser tag, and it was even nicer in that moment. </p><p>So Charlie said a mental ‘fuck it’, and wrapped his arms around Dennis again, hugging him in a much more personal hug than earlier, when he’d been crying. And of course, Dennis was a little startled, but by no means did he flinch or jump. He hugged back immediately, actually. And slowly, turned a little towards Charlie, so it was easier to hug, more comfortable.</p><p>Charlie didn’t smell good, Dennis noted— well. Not technically. But there was something weirdly comforting about the very specific Charlie smell, of cheese and beer and sweat and drugs and piss. Charlie had always smelled like that, so by that point, it didn’t put Dennis off, when faced with a close, gentle hug. In fact, he just wanted to hug Charlie for longer. He was normally completely averse to long hugs, but this felt right.</p><p>Dennis did smell good, Charlie noted. He always did. Like vanilla and slightly pricy aftershave and beer. Charlie never wanted to stop smelling Dennis. He’d probably even take that smell over cheese, if he always had the choice. </p><p>“Hey,” Dennis chuckled a little, quietly and into the silence in a warm, inviting tone. Charlie hummed, prompting him to continue. “You remember when Dee made us kiss?” He said it lightheartedly, casually, although his stomach was churning with nerves.</p><p>Charlie’s face flushed, and if Dennis could see it, he’d probably notice it was a deep, embarrassed red. “Yeah,” he chuckled, although it came out a little shaky, so he nodded, to try and counteract the bizarre onslaught of both physical and feelings that hit him upon that. </p><p>Dennis hummed and laughed quietly. But then, he fell quiet, and Charlie could practically feel the nervous energy radiating from his body. </p><p>It took Dennis an unprecedentedly long time to put his thoughts and words into a cohesive format. He inhaled a shaky breath, licked his lips anxiously, and spoke quietly, hesitantly, with a little waver. “Wanna do that again one day...?”</p><p>Charlie had never been so quick to nod in his life. And that made Dennis chuckle, but not in a cruel way; relieved, in fact, and a little breathless. </p><p>“W—Wait, you mean like, like just the kissing part, right?” Charlie suddenly spluttered out, a little bit awkwardly. “Not the... weird outfits part? Because that was so fucking weird, man, having to do that in front of like, <em>Dee</em>...”</p><p>“Yeah, dude. Just the kissing part,” Dennis clarified quietly. His own cheeks flushed a little, a little endeared by Charlie’s openness. He was used to being implicit, so an explicit clarification was... incredibly refreshing. “I’m asking if you wanna kiss me.”</p><p>“Yeah, duh,” Charlie shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid.” He paused. “Most of the time.”</p><p>“Hey, don’t say that, asshole,” Dennis batted Charlie’s shoulder, pulling his head back from the hug a little and narrowing his eyes at Charlie in a very Dennis-like fashion. “You’re <em>always</em> stupid,” he grinned, playfully. “S’cool though. You’d be boring if you were super well educated all of a sudden.”</p><p>“Oh, oh I’m so sorry Mr I Went To Penn I So Must Be Clever, is my self <em>validation</em> about not being stupid too boring for you?” Charlie mock-sniffled, pouting sarcastically, quietly enjoying the slight sense of normality between them.</p><p>Dennis rolled his eyes, shaking his head in light incredulity. “You are such a dumbass, I swear—”</p><p>Charlie kissed his cheek, knowing full well that it would shut him up. And that it did, Dennis’ face almost comically turning pink. He looked so incredibly out of sorts, it made Charlie splutter a little laugh, slowly blushing pink himself.</p><p>Dennis’ mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. “O—Oh,” he eventually managed to get out, and a smile almost managed to grace his lips, just clinging to the way they wobbled in shock.</p><p>“Holy shit, if that’s all I need to do to shut you up, I’ll kiss you any day,” Charlie laughed, albeit a little bashfully, before slowly unwrapping his arms from around Dennis. “...But not today. I need to— need to let my brain do some thoughts and shit about it first.”</p><p>Dennis just nodded slowly. His eyes were fixed on Charlie, as he moved away, completely baffled, in awe. </p><p>Charlie looked back at him, and raised a quizzical eyebrow, scratching the back of his head. “I dunno what you’re looking at me like that for, bro. I’m— I’m not exactly hot shit right now, am I?” He laughed, a little self consciously, hyper aware of how puffy and blotchy his eyes were, how messed up his hands were, and how he must’ve smelled even worse than usual, after four days in the bad room. </p><p>Dennis shook his head, waving Charlie off. “You kissed my cheek.”</p><p>Charlie looked left and right, before back at Dennis, frowning in confusion. “Uh... yeah?”</p><p>Dennis nodded, taking it in. His fingers brushed his cheek where Charlie had kissed him, but played it off as his hand reaching to scratch his eyebrow. His lips tweaked, briefly. “Gross,” he said, and he absolutely didn’t mean it. Not even a little bit.</p><p>“You’re gross,” Charlie bit back playfully, before reaching for the glue in front of him, popping open the lid for the first time, and inhaling a sniff. Familiar. Warm. Nice. But new.</p><p>Dennis watched him, before looking at the floor. And then, back up at Charlie. Reluctantly, he spoke. “Look man, I-I’m gonna head back, the gang are gonna be wondering what’s going on,” he said, and although it was a little half hearted, he really should be going. </p><p>Charlie nodded in understanding. “Yeah, sure thing,” he said, closing his eyes as he sniffed the open container once more. </p><p>“You all good?” Dennis asked, starting to get to his feet but hesitating, to double check. </p><p>Charlie nodded, not needing to hesitate for long. “Uh-huh,” he looked up at Dennis, blinking his eyes to quickly focus his apparently hazy vision. “Thanks for, uh— uh... the glue, and cheese and beer and stuff. And for the hug. And for the gross gay stuff.”</p><p>Dennis cracked a smile, exhaling a puff of air awkwardly as he stood up. “I never said I was—”</p><p>“Nor did I,” Charlie shot back, grinning like an idiot for the first time in days. It hurt the muscles in his cheeks, but it was worth it. “Go on, piss off, the gang are eagerly waiting your sacred return,” he spoke in a mock-regal voice. </p><p>“You’re an asshole,” Dennis flipped Charlie off, but then, lingered his hand atop his head, because that’s where he could reach. “See you when I see you.” He pulled his hand back, and carefully walked back towards the vents, trying to avoid the debris and varying dangerous bits of glass or rodent traps. </p><p>“Yup,” Charlie nodded, a little bit softer in his tone. Watched Dennis walk away, and held the tub of glue with both hands, tightly. Didn’t particularly want to let go. He liked that glue very much indeed. </p><p>Dennis sighed as he looked down at the vent. Reluctantly shuffled through on his hands and knees. “Great, now I’ve gotta fucking crawl away. How demeaning.”</p><p>“It’s— It’s quite entertaining, y’know,” Charlie called after him. He heard Dennis laugh slightly, and watched as he turned a corner, comically crawling away. </p><p>Charlie looked down at the floor. And then, at the vent entrance. And then, covered his face. Smiled a bit. Smiled a <em>lot</em>. Hugged his knees back to his chest, and let himself feel warm.</p><p>He couldn’t wait until he was ready to come out of his bad room. </p><p>He couldn’t wait to kiss Dennis. </p><p>He sniffed a bit more glue, and exhaled a borderline content breath as he buried his face comfortably back into his knees. </p><p>Now, the ceiling didn’t feel all that low.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love Charlie and Dennis endlessly, emotional support boyfriends imo ✨</p><p>This isn’t particularly good writing, I’m just very charden centric at the moment and needed to get this to make my ao3 more pairing diverse (but honestly, expect to see more charden because...... I lov them uwu)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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